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‘I think…’ he said, slowly and hoarsely, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. ‘I think, my lady wife, that now is the time.’
And, getting to his feet, he held out his hand to her, strong, hard fingers locking with her paler, slender ones.
‘Come with me,’ he said, and it was part command, part awe-filled request. ‘Come to bed. I want you now.’
The journey up to the bedroom took far longer than Lily could ever have anticipated. On each step Ronan paused to kiss her, every touch of his lips growing deeper, more passionate as they moved higher. And with each kiss her breathing grew faster, shallower, setting her head spinning, so that she couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single coherent word inside her thoughts.
She could only feel. Feel the pulsing excitement that flooded every inch of her body. Feel the growing need uncoiling, growing, spiralling deep inside her. Feel the heat of her blood, the thud of her heart, the ache of need that made her breasts swell and the most intimate point between her thighs throb with yearning sensation.
It seemed for ever until they reached the room. A lifetime before Ronan kicked the door closed and gathered her up into his arms. Sweeping one hand through the silken fall of her hair, he held her head immobile with one strong hand at the nape of her neck, bringing his dark head down sharply, crushing her lips under his in one final, wordless declaration of the passion he could now hold back no longer.
Lily could only respond in kind. Straining her body against his in a relentless need to get closer, to feel as much as was possible of his hard strength against hers, she abandoned all control. At last she could release all the pent-up frustrations of the past weeks, open herself to the deep-felt need to know everything there was to know about this man, experience the full, elemental force of his lovemaking. Her mouth kissed, clung, urged, demanded, inciting him to an electric build-up of passion, opening the floodgates of need, fully content in the knowledge that she would never be able to close them again.
When the erotic contact of their mouths became inadequate, they broke apart, each breathing heavily, eyeing each other with a wild excitement.
‘Do I undress myself?’ Lily asked unevenly. ‘Or do you want to do it.’
‘Oh, I want to,’ Ronan assured her deeply. ‘I want to more than all the world. But I warn you…’
One hand came out, slid a tiny button on the front of her bronze silk blouse with a delicate slowness that had her wriggling in impatient delight.
‘I intend to enjoy every minute of it, every sight, every sound…’ The corners of his mouth quirked up in delight when an uncontrollable whimper of response escaped her as a second button slipped from its mooring.
‘Every scent…’
Lowering his proud head to the creamy curves his actions had exposed in the open neckline, he inhaled deeply, taking in the floral aroma of her perfume and the subtler, deeply personal fragrance of her skin.
‘And every taste.’
Hot and wet, his tongue snaked out, tracing heated, erotic patterns across her skin, dipping down into the scented valley between her breasts. As Lily moaned her response she felt him smile against her flesh, the tiny movement making her nipples swell in yearning response, their hardened peaks straining against the lacy confines of the cobweb-fine bra she wore. Ronan’s triumphant laughter shivered across her burning nerve-endings.
‘More?’
‘More!’ It was a choking cry of heartfelt longing.
‘More,’ Ronan echoed, taking that tormenting mouth down and across the slope of one breast, sliding the softness of his lips along its satin curve until they closed over the aching nipple, suckling strongly.
With a gasp of delight, Lily’s hands clenched in the auburn sleekness of his hair, holding him closer still, unable to get enough of this sweetly agonising pleasure. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his teeth graze the sensitised bud, heightening her arousal even more with wicked expertise.
But a second later even that was not enough. While his attention was concentrated on one part of her there were other, equally sensitive areas that grew impatient, demanding the same voluptuous rapture.
And she was no longer content to be still. She wanted to feel him too, to touch his skin, explore every inch of his body, know him fully at last.
The silk jacket was clumsily tugged off and discarded carelessly on the floor, followed swiftly by his shirt and tie. The feel of the warm satin of his flesh under her fingertips acted like the flick of a switch, triggering off a wild yearning that had her flinging caution to the winds. Fingers trembling with need, she fumbled with the narrow leather belt around his waist, sighing her satisfaction as she pulled it free.
‘Steady!’ Ronan’s voice was thick and hoarse, sounding a note of warning against her throat.
‘Steady?’ Lily muttered in impatient response. ‘I want this— I want you!’
She was struggling to breathe, finding it almost impossible to drag enough air into her straining lungs. Every inch of her skin was burning up with hunger, heating her blood until it seemed to pool in a molten rush of heat and awareness between her thighs.
‘Well, if that’s what you want.’ It was a low, contented growl. ‘That’s what you shall have.’
She was lifted from her feet and carried towards the bed. He lowered her on to the covers and his mouth locked with hers again, the sensual intrusion of his tongue tangling with her own until she moved against him restlessly. Sliding down beside her, he moved fluidly against her, the pressure of his lean body making her crave more intimate contact with a desperation that was like a scream through every nerve-end.
Her clothes, too, had been discarded somewhere, she had no idea when he had actually eased them from her body. But now he leaned above her, propped up on one arm, looking down at her with passion-darkened eyes.
‘Tonight, my lady, you can have whatever you want.’
Later, that subtly emphasised tonight was to come back to haunt her bitterly. But for that night she had no sense of premonition, no hint of anything beyond her own pleasure.
‘Whatever…’ It was a sigh of sheer delight in the anticipation of what was to come.
‘But first…’
Turning away from her for a moment, he reached for the small foil-wrapped package he had tossed on to the bedside cabinet and ripped it open.
‘We don’t need…’ Lily began, but he silenced her with a gentle finger laid across her lips.
‘Oh, yes, we do,’ he insisted softly. ‘A child doesn’t come into my plans at all right now. I want you all to myself for a long time, without any such complication.’
All to myself. The whispered words sent of glow of sheer joy through every inch of Lily’s body, making her purr like a contented cat.
‘That’s fine by me.’
Lazily she let her fingers drift over the powerful muscles of his back and shoulders, sliding into the dark silk of his hair. Feeling its unexpected lack of length, the bluntness of the line at the base of his finely shaped skull, she frowned in sensual disapproval.
‘Why did you cut your hair?’ she complained softly.
‘Perhaps I thought it didn’t suit my new status as a married man.’
‘But if you knew how long I’ve dreamed of this moment, how I wanted to run my fingers through it…’
She suited action to the words.
‘Trace its path right down to your shoulders…’
The way his long body tensed, then jerked convulsively under her caress told her of the effect she was having, bringing a smile of dreamy triumph to her lips.
‘Along your back…’
Her forefinger trailed all the way down the strong, straight line of his spine and under the loosened trousers, moving teasingly over the tautly muscled buttocks.
‘Witch!’ Ronan growled. ‘You’re asking for trouble.’
‘Really?’
Lily rounded her eyes with mock surprise and shock.
‘Do you know?’ she murmured. ‘I think that’s exactly what I’m doing.’
Her wandering fingers moved to close over the waistband of his trousers. With Ronan’s willing help he was soon free of his only remaining clothing, a faintly shaken laugh escaping him as she explored his naked body without restraint.
Her hunger doubling with every second, she moved sinuously against his naked form, revelling in the abrasion of the curls of his body hair against her breasts, the warmth of his flat stomach next to hers. Lower still, the hard, heated force of his physical arousal lay like burning velvet against her thighs, making her yearn and ache with a hunger that could no longer be denied.
‘Ronan, please…’ she heard herself beg.
But Ronan had yet more skills in his repertoire, and he used them with the consummate artistry of genius, touching, stroking, kissing, taking tiny, sharp little bites at her skin. And when his knowing fingers found the warm, moist innermost core of her femininity she gasped out loud, twisting in total loss of control.
Frantic heat pulsed through her, radiating out from that aching spot deep at the heart of her being, and she knew nothing beyond that tiny focus, her whole thought process suspended in concentration on it. Each time she thought she could bear no more he found another variation on delight, another refinement of pleasure, and the intensity of her need increased until it was nearer to torture than rapture.
Only then did he slide over her, nudging her thighs apart with the hair-roughened strength of his. For a split second he hesitated, and she saw something flare in his darkened eyes that made her heart jolt in instinctive panic. But a second later the moment was forgotten as he entered her with a single fierce thrust, driving any chance of thought away for ever.
Lily lost her sense of time, of space, of being. She lost herself and became only one part of the whole they made together. Her hands clenched over the powerful muscles of his shoulders, her spine arching in desperate need to feel to the uttermost every urgent touch, every move of his body on hers. She was soaring higher and higher, spiralling wildly towards a blazing sun that would burn her up, leave her as nothing but ashes, and she didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching that peak of fulfilment.
As the final burning wave broke over her she heard a voice, ragged and hoarse, crying Ronan’s name out loud, and realised with a sense of shock that it was her own. The sound was so wild, so primitive she couldn’t recognise herself in it. Adrift on a heated sea of delight, she heard Ronan, too, cry out as he followed her into the oblivion of ecstasy.
But it wasn’t her name that was torn from his lips at the height of his passion. Nor was it any soft word of love nor expression of the pleasure that had possessed him. Instead it was a wild and husky sound that seemed to have been dragged from the depths of his soul.
‘Remember!’ he said. ‘Remember this, my Lily! Remember!’
Remember. Lily could only think hazily when the final storm had faded, ebbing slowly away like warm, sluggish waves lapping a sun-heated shore. Remember. How could she ever forget? How could there be any doubt that she would recall this first night of her marriage in every tiny detail?
Each moment of it was etched on to her brain, second by second, and while she lived nothing would ever erase them from her memory. Of course she would always remember. The whole experience had been totally unforgettable.
CHAPTER THREE
UNFORGETTABLE.
The word seared inside Lily’s head, making her feel chilled to the bone. If the nightmare into which she had woken was all that remained of her married life, how could she ever survive with those scenes of overwhelming passion engraved on her soul?
But she had to come out of her memories because Ronan had said something she hadn’t heard, let alone understood, and she could only blink at him in blank incomprehension.
‘I think we’d better talk indoors.’
Talk? Lily eyed him with wary suspicion.
‘Talk’ sounded hopeful. It made it seem as if there was some room for discussion, not just the unequivocal ultimatum he had handed out at the start.
But ‘indoors’ meant going into the house, and that meant getting down from her position on the car. That might be decidedly incongruous, possibly even close to looking ridiculous, but if it stopped him driving off, as he had obviously intended, then it was her only small advantage, and right now she intended to hang on to it.
‘Is there anything to talk about?’ she questioned edgily. ‘I mean, you present me with a fait accompli and then you say we can negotiate…’
She broke off sharply as she saw his dark head move in fierce negation, the coppery strands catching the sun with a disturbingly attractive effect.
‘No negotiation,’ he declared adamantly. ‘I just want you to listen…’
‘Then I’m not moving! You can talk to me right here.’
She tried to sit up straighter, needing to outface him. But the unwary movement on the polished metal proved her undoing. The silky robe gave her no grip, so that she had to put her hands down flat in order to stop herself from sliding ignominiously off on to the ground.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’
Ronan’s fury was expressed in a darkly eloquent stream of violent curses as he strode forward sharply.
Lily had no time to guess at his plan, or to prepare herself in any way. An awkward, fearful squawk of protest escaped her as one arm closed around her shoulders, the other slid under her thighs, and she was lifted bodily from the car.
‘Ronan! Put me down!’
Her wild objection went unheeded. He simply tightened his grip, clamping his arms around her with the bruising effect of steel bands until she was incapable of movement, as he marched towards the house.
‘I never did carry you over the threshold,’ he muttered, the sardonic humour scraping her nerves raw as she, too, recognised in his actions the black parody of the old-fashioned tradition of the groom carrying his bride into their first marital home. Ronan kicked open the nearest door, striding into the elegant green and gold living room and dumping her unceremoniously into an armchair.
‘Now—oh, no you don’t!’
He reacted swiftly when she would have got to her feet in an attempt at escape. One strong hand fastened punishingly on her shoulder again, pushing her back into the chair and holding her there.
‘What sort of joke is this, Ronan? It’s not funny, believe me. I—’
‘No joke,’ he insisted harshly. ‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’
If the truth be told, Ronan reflected inwardly, humour had never been further from his mind. He just wanted this whole thing over and done with.
He had never expected her to fight so hard, or for so long. He had thought that by now he would be well away from Edgerton, his mission accomplished, leaving the shattered pieces of his so-called marriage well behind for Davey Cornwell to pick up, if he ever resurfaced.
Instead, he was still here, unable to get away. Lily seemed to have entwined herself around his life like a clinging vine, and, what was worse, he actually found himself starting to feel sorry for her. He had to get a grip on himself. Pity was an emotion he couldn’t afford to let himself experience.
‘Answer me one thing.’ The conflict he was enduring inside made his voice even harsher than he had intended. ‘Were you telling the truth when you said you liked this house?’
The abrupt change of tack totally nonplussed Lily. Even though she could see no reason for the question she could only answer it straight.
‘Of course. I love it; it’s quite beautiful. But…’
Ronan dismissed her confused question with an imperious wave of his free hand.
‘Then it’s yours.’
Hearing that, Lily felt that if she hadn’t been sitting down already she might actually have fallen. The ground seemed to have crumbled away beneath her feet, leaving her with nothing firm enough on which to stand.
‘But it must be worth a fortune!’
‘Something like that,’ Ronan agreed with supreme indifference. ‘But I knew that if I actually went ahead and married you there would be legal repercussions. I accept that I shall have to support—’
‘I don’t want your money! You know that’s not why I married you!’
‘Well, it’s all that’s on offer. There’s nothing else.’
‘But why?’
